


Like David Bowie With Mick Jagger

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Josie and the Pussycats (2001)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-16
Updated: 2007-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1633643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I <i>am</I> a rock star, Josie says, staring at herself in the mirror, Stratocaster slung across her hip. "I am a rock goddess. I can melt faces off with the power of my rock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like David Bowie With Mick Jagger

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cathybites

 

 

The good news is, people still like them. The bad news is, not as many people. Which is good, because they're not being brain-washed anymore, but bad for a whole bunch of tiny, selfish reasons: Like nobody is buying tickets to the concerts on their new tour.

"I _am_ a rock star," Josie says, staring at herself in the mirror, Stratocaster slung across her hip. "I am a rock goddess. I can melt faces off with the power of my rock."

She'll practice until her fingers bleed. That'll make them liked again. If she can just play a little better, the band will be back on top.

"Josie, it's three in the morning," Val says, coming through the backdoor. She's wired on caffeine, her eyes red from a late-night party. "You're going to wake Melody."

A particularly high-pitched snore comes from the bathroom. Valerie opens the door to see Melody sleeping in the bathtub, her teddy bear serving as a pillow. Josie feels a hot blush of shame.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really worried about the next concert."

"I told you we should have invested in pyro. Nobody notices that we suck if we have pyro."

Even the hotel room has caught up with their fall from grace. It's smaller, with no product placement except for those weird "paintings of light" that all hotels seem to have. The manager took the Gibson Bible off the bedstand before they got the room, because they're rock stars. Josie's not sure whether to feel proud or offended about that.

Melody said she saw a rat earlier. Josie had to explain to her that all rats aren't like Templeton in Charlotte's Web, which would sound a lot more convincing if the dirty thing didn't keep rubbing against Melody's leg and mewing when she gave it cheese. Rat and girl even have this shared giggle, which Josie is sure she would have nightmares about if she could get to sleep.

"What are you thinking about?" Valerie asks, coming up behind Josie, putting her hands at the guitarist's hips in a friendly gesture. The way her hands hang down to where they are is a little more than friendly.

"Melody saw a rat earlier. She's kind of adopted it."

"Rats..." Valerie says, turning it into the curse word before looking slyly up at Josie's reflection. "Should I sleep in your bed tonight?"

Josie smiles bashfully. "Tonight. Every night."

Valerie's hands reach around her, one to grab the guitar's neck, the other the head of the ax. Josie feels like she's part of some weird love sandwich, guitar/Josie/Valerie. But then, they've always shared that. Sometimes, back in Riverdale, they used to switch so that Josie was the one who played bass. The sex was always fantastic after that, but they didn't overdo it. Valerie was better at bass and they both knew it. The band came first. That was the difference between them and every other wanna-be rocker (and married couple, for that matter). The band came first. Everyone else came second, but they did come.

"And what about Alan M?"

"We've had boyfriends before. Alan's no different."

"Yeah, but he's Alan _M_. The apple in your eye since you stopped thinking Adam's Apples were gross."

"Started to see turtleneck sweaters in a whole new light," Josie recalls, making Val laugh.

Giving the guitar a short jerk, Valerie yanks Josie back against her, their bodies sticking together. The bass guitarist raised the guitar up, running the back of it over Josie's front.

"Band still comes first?"

Josie smiles and arches her back against Val's body. "Everyone else comes second."

Valerie licks her being the ear, backing away with an impish smile, and Josie purrs as Val drags her to bed by the guitar. They leave it leaning against the footboard and Josie goes down on Val first, like a good lead singer. Valerie moans and screams and claws at Josie's back like a cat in heat, all eponymous and shit.

"Who's a rock star?" she breathes as she holds Josie's face against her pussy.

Josie feels that hot Val scent erupt over her face, feels Val's fingers tighten in her hair, and knows when it's too painful to keep licking. Valerie drifts down to the bed for a moment, giggling when Josie kisses her ankle, right on the pawprint tattoo they all got together in '99.

"Your turn," Val says.

"My turn."

Josie wriggles out of her pre-faded jeans, which is she the only one who gets that thing? They're pre-faded! She throws them over Val's head and lies back against a bedpost as Valerie starts to eat her out. As Josie is explored, she reaches for the guitar and begins to strum a few notes. Val listens to the song and licks.

They do wake Melody up.

She comes to bed too.

* * *

They play the gig. There's not many people there, but the people who are there love it. Josie smiles at Val when the crowd screams for an encore. That smile that says "we're going to give them one." Val smiles back, smiles at Melody, and this is why the band comes first. Because this? This is better than sex.

* * *

After they play, Alan M is there. Val tries not to pout as he takes Josie out for coffee. She will not be jealous. She will not be the jealous girlfriend, even though everyone can see that Josie is the femme and she's the butch, so really, it only makes sense that they'd be jealous.

Valerie goes out for drinks with Melody, who ends up falling a little in love with a mechanical bull. Val drags the blonde off of it as Melody promises "I'll never forget you!" (meaning the bull) and they're out the backdoor and Melody's hands are all over her, that easy, open affection she does so well. There's no issues here, not with this side of the triangle, but Val wants to be rough, wants to be mean, wants Melody to take it like only Josie can take it. Her hand slams against Melody's ass and the look on the drummer's face is all hurt innocence.

"Why'd you do that?" Melody asks. "Was I a bad girl?"

"No. No, you were great." Val sighs and realizes that this won't do anything for her. "Let's go back inside."

They go back to the hotel room and Josie still isn't there, she left a note saying she was with Alan, so she _was_ there and then she _left_ and Val is not the jealous dyke girlfriend because the band comes first, right? and she should be happy for Josie, living the dream. Having Alan touching her, inside her.

Val sits on the bed and plays Josie's guitar, strumming out the bass line of (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction.

"When I'm watching my TV and that man comes on to tell me how to wash my shirts with bleach," Melody sings into her hairbrush. "He can't be a man because he doesn't smoke six cigarettes a week. I can't get no, oh no no no, hey hey hey, that's what I say."

* * *

The next stop on their tour is Atlanta. Val imagines that she can smell Alan on her, so Josie joins her in the shower and they wash him off. Afterwards, Valerie sits on the toilet and looks at Josie.

"If I asked you to stay with me, would you?"

Josie is drying her hair. She doesn't look at Val. "The band comes first, Val. We _agreed_."

Val screws up her face, but doesn't say what she's thinking.

* * *

The sex shop is actually really clean and brightly lit. Val feels out of place in her dark sunglasses and heavy trenchcoat, but the patrons seem to respect her anonymity.

"I would like to buy... a strap-on. In private."

The manager pulls one out from behind the counter and shows her. She asks for a bigger one and yeah, no way Alan M is packing that much heat.

"Can I... try it on?"

The manager leads her into a backroom. She grips the pepper spray in her pocket for dear life, just in case this is the start of a really bad slasher movie. Sex Shop Slaughterer.

* * *

Josie screams like she's belting out a facemelter when Val takes her from behind on the tour bus, screams like she had to have screamed for Alan M. The strap-on slides in and out of her with a steady rhythm Val finds addictive. Josie is sprawled over Melody's lap and the drummer pets her hair. Josie stabs into her with two fingers and Melody squeals in that way she has, excited and joyous. Then it's just a matter of how much sweat they can build up until the inevitable.

Melody comes, her eyelids fluttering shut, and Josie shudders in orgasm, clutching to Melody's thighs. Even Val manages to find a nice way to rub the strap-on she was wearing so it just touches her clit. She gets a little overenthusiastic and they all fall to the bus' floor. Somehow they end up with Melody sucking on the dildo like it's a lollipop, wondering where all the white cream is, and Josie and Val's arms around each other.

"I love you," Val says.

"Rock star," Josie answers, stroking her face.

* * *

For the crowd in Richmond, they play a new song they've been working on, the one with the riff Josie invented when Val's tongue was inside her. It's a duet; Val wrote it that way. They're both leaning into the same mike, cutting loose with the vocals, and the crowd was loving it, the kind of adulation that flows up from the stands and into your body, makes your nipples stand out and your hands tingle. As they approached the chorus, their faces got closer and closer together and neither did anything to stop it. Finally, Val gave Josie a quick peck behind the microphone and they broke to shout out the chorus.

Val licked her lips.

* * *

Someone snapped a photo of the kiss with their camera phone and by morning it's all over the Internet.

Their last video suddenly makes it to TRL and suddenly those looks Val and Josie give each other are seen in a whole new light.

* * *

"Think we should tell `em we're not lesbians?" Josie asks, eating a handful of Bugles from the party bowl. It wasn't Melody's turn to refill it yet, so they all have to make do without her trail mix.

"Nah. Be coy about it. It'll sell more," Alexander said. "Uhh... you're not, right? I mean, you have a boyfriend."

* * *

A review of their concert appears on AfterEllen. Following Val's advice, they don't oversell it. Always leave them wanting more. All of a sudden people are saying that there's finally a pop lesbian band that doesn't pander to het-boy desire for girl-on-girl action. Josie and Val laugh about it while they cuddle. They wouldn't know how to act sexy. It's just not their band.

"Oh my God!" Val exclaims in a moment of silence. "We're queercore gone mainstream!"

* * *

And then, because things were a little too perfect, Alan M shows up and he's not happy with their new image. He and Josie yell at each other while Val and Melody wait outside the hotel room. When they finally come out, Val is a little surprised that Josie doesn't have a black eye and a little disappointed that she can't give Alan one.

"I think maybe we've taken it too far," Josie says, about a lot of things.

* * *

Good friends. Best friends. Not girlfriends. That's what Josie wants her to say in front of the whole wide world. Like she's ashamed of it. Just because Alan can't bear the thought of sharing Josie, of it even _looking_ like he's sharing Josie, as if he's the first boy who ever circled one of the Pussycats. Val grits her teeth and forgets how angry she was at not having Josie to herself. _She_ put up with it, why can't _he?_ Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid, boy with a stupid fucking haircut and a stupid hard-on and a really, really stupid song that Josie likes because she's into that shit, like he isn't the millionth unemployed college drop-out to write some strummy guitar alt-crap for his girlfriend.

And stupid.

Fucking.

Josie for falling for it.

And stupid fucking Melody for... well, Melody's just fucking stupid.

Val growls, takes a deep breath in through the nose, lets it out. Once you're mad at Melody, it's time to take a chill pill. She'll do it. She'll tell everyone who'll listen how much she likes the cock. If that's what Josie wants, that's what Josie'll get.

* * *

"Fuck the band," Val says instead.

Josie looks up sharply, as if she picked out those three words from an entirely unrelated conversation and is trying to remember if they exist in the same sentence.

"What do you mean, `fuck the band'?"

Melody looks up from her magazine (she's lying on the bed, belly-down, paging through it) and mouths "Eff dash dash dash," but Val's not in the mood to watch her language.

"I mean fuck the band. When we said the band comes first, it was about friendship." The hotel is bigger around them than it has been in weeks. All Val has to do is say she for-real likes boys and it gets bigger. "It wasn't some kind of suicide pact. I just... I don't care what it does to our sales charts. Just for tonight, can't it be about me?"

Josie stands up and walks towards Val.

"Can't it be about us?" Val says, pleading. "We're the band anyway, right?"

Josie pulls Val against her, and for a moment she's holding Val just with her eyes. "Tonight. Every night."

They collapse onto the bed and Melody flops down on top of them and Val double-teams her with Josie. They're both leaning into the same nipple, cutting loose with their tongues, and Melody is loving it, the kind of adulation that flows up from the stands and into your body, makes your nipples stand out and your hands tingle. As they approach the climax, their faces get closer and closer together and neither do anything to stop it. Finally, Josie gives Val a long kiss through the veil of Melody's hair and they don't break it for anything.

* * *

The jealous ex-boyfriend shows up to say that they're dykes, all three of them, but no one really listens to him. The Pussycats appear on the Today Show; Josie and Val hold hands and that's cool too. No one really cares if it's an act or real. It's all about the music.

And everyone knows that you make the sweetest music when you're in love.

 


End file.
